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Authors: Rebekah Johnson

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BOOK: Intentionality
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Eight

September 17th.

Morning Craig,

How is life down in the rust bucket with the prisoners?

Here on dry land, life is rolling on quite interestingly. I went along on an observation mission last night with the Resistance Guards. We think things are beginning to be prepared for another Harvest. All of the usual signs are evident. The disused park on the route is being painted and some of the Acer personnel are being employed in the buildings that are attached. A letter has been dispatched commanding personnel to arrive for cylinder preparation duty. We took a walk along the sub route too. It seems that the tracks are being repaired. This all points to a Harvest, but that is a lot earlier than our intelligence predicted. We need to ask you to do some investigating your side. Just a discrete intelligent question here and there will be adequate. We need an accurate date to begin planning the mission. As I said in my previous contact, we are probably three Harvests away from going live with the takeover mission but we really need to put a plant onto the next sub to facilitate the exploration.

Hope to hear from you soon, Luke.

Nine

September 17
th
.

Mate,

Need to talk.

Questions from above.

Meet @ air hole. Two o'clock. C.

KK. I'll be the one in the rubber dive suit! Will.

September 18
th
.

Luke,

I have spoken to Willem. He says that he noticed the accelerated learning class adding an extra early morning session to their timetable yesterday as he went on duty. Interestingly, our boy Willem tells me he has broken all the rules by helping one of the twins when he found her drowning in the air hole a while back. Seems to have taken a shine to her and because of his fledgling vested interest, he is now willing to join the cause, but on a strictly information gathering status only. He says he really is not interested in becoming a guard. The more the merrier I say. He is an extremely worthy catch. He has top-level security passes because of his technical skills and intelligence score. He has promised to observe and be our ears on his shifts.

Will be in touch soon, Craig.

Ten

The days in this week have travelled so very fast. We have been intensively fed by the information machine that is Mrs Alder. Not that I'm saying her robotic manner is ineffective. Many of the girls have suddenly improved their scores and some have overnight it seems, developed their Evo-gene skills. We now have two Doctors of mathematics, three engineers, three Doctors of medicine and an army commander, who of course is Summer; this makes complete sense. She is born to lead, fiercely organised and relentless in the successful completion of her missions. The surprise package at the moment is Skye, whose Evo-skill has absolutely nothing to do with her love of physical movement. She is to be a geneticist, this job I am told explores how our human bodies are planned out from our smallest cell. I think that particular job is super interesting but Skye fears that she will be strapped to a microscope in a lab all day, which is her worst nightmare.

So that just leaves the scrapings at the bottom of the barrel. My sister and I have got small embryonic changes in our skills, Lily more than me. She can now interpret a lost language called Latin, though what good that will be to Intentionality I do not know. She now knows all of the names for my favourite plants in the botanical gardens and has been having great discussions with one of our friends who is to become a medical chemist. Apparently medicines also have Latin names. As usual I have the comedy version of skills on offer. I can produce images in my brain, which begin to tell a story when I listen to the music and songs from different languages. Not a regularly tested ability I will admit, but I came across this earth shattering news while wandering the decks near the Mono area. A door just happened to slide open, allowing some sound to escape. It was a wonderful piece of music, echoing along the corridors, it sent a tingle along my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had never heard the language being sung and still can't tell you what the words were, when translated back to in English, but as I stood mesmerised in the corridor, great visions appeared around me like I was being transported in to my own personal moving scene. I tried tentatively at first to feel the surroundings, believing that I had in fact been transported off The Nest. On closer inspection, I realised that I could still see past the fog of vision to the end of the corridor.

The tale being told was a warning, a memory repeated in a gentle tone with a background accompaniment of bells along with the notes produced by what I now know to be a sitar. The tale was so deeply moving. A girl was tempted to stray away from her home by the promise of fortune and fame in the big city. She felt that she was invincible, independent and valuable enough by herself to make the move alone. She left behind her family and therefore the only support system she had. The city was a cold impersonal place, from the very first moment her foot stepped off the train, she knew that she had made a mistake but could not gather the strength to admit her lack of judgement to her family. She felt that the shame of admitting defeat so soon would lay a burden of ridicule on her family. I could watch her wandering the streets, almost invisible to the town's folk. She lived the lie for a few miserable weeks and eventually found herself living on the streets, alone, ill and exceptionally scared. One terrible frozen night she curled up and never woke up. At the end of that heart-breaking tale the family sing of their utter devastation in losing their daughter twice. That it would have only taken one message from her, to get the help that they were waiting to give. The message was clear, we are only as strong as our team helps us to be. I am left wondering, why didn't her family strive to help her once they realised she was gone? Perhaps she didn't leave a letter.

Unfortunately my team will be leaving me, not as it was in the story. Even worse still, that tragic girl
made
the decision to become alone, even if it was misguided. If I can't figure out how to improve my mental strength scores, I shall not even have the choice. I shall be the one sleeping in a cold unwelcoming place without the support of my sister.

My only hope in this situation, are my dear friends Dawn and Grace, they too have no signs of improved skills. This is because of an entirely different and frightening situation. They have both been struck quite mysteriously by an illness since the night that Mrs Alder gave us our three-week deadline. Their illness hasn't spread to the other Seeders but seems to have something to do with the meal that we ate during the evening. They were both perfectly well before. But as soon as we finished the meal they both became seriously ill with high temperatures and erratic speech. They are both in the medical bay. Their temperatures are now stabilised but both girls continue to spout unintelligible words and commands uncontrollably. We have decided to visit one at a time as they appear to be eased by our presence but over sensitive to too much fuss! The medics assisting their recovery have no clue as to what the virus may be, but have suggested that because the onset was rapid the cause may well have been something they both ingested at that meal, just after our morning meeting with Mrs Alder, incidentally it was also the day that The Captain was spotted fiddling with our external pads but that snippet of information seems to have been eradicated from the memory of any of the Acers in charge. Because we weren't supposed to know about him and because saying anything would almost certainly get Skye into all sorts of bother, we as a group have decided to silence the nagging questions also. Of course with no one else to blame the investigation into the virus has led to the Mono chefs and galley being searched for contaminants. Nothing was discovered, the Grand Acer decided to put the resources in to curing the two girls rather than finding the problem, as no one else seemed to be inflicted.

“How did you score on the brain scan Mae?” communicated Lily.

She is in the medical bay. It's her turn this afternoon.

“On a score of one to ten, one being me destined to stay in The Nest until I am old and grey, ten being the golden ticket to Intentionality. I scored a three Lily, I don't think my vivid imagination put to a sound track counts as mental stability, let alone gives off any measurable power into those head transmitters,” I responded

Every week now we're fastened into a helmet contraption for ten minutes. During this time, we are exposed to relevant visual and verbal stimulants that correspond with our Evo-gene skills. Because my Evo-gene is supposed to fire into action with the sound of different languages, I am bombarded for the whole time by people talking, shouting and laughing. Great groups of words fill my head and faces appear in front of me on a screen. Of course to my brain this is nothing new. I live with the constant hum and buzz. This is the key to my low power scores. It's not a mystery to me. My brain switches off to intense noise. It has been trained to react this way through years of rigorous experience.

“Mae, how can that be? You are at least experiencing some new developments, and you have the benefit of knowing the test content, because I showed you when I was tested,” Lily despaired

Just two weeks to go now. No amount of guidance or extra sessions with Mrs Alder is likely to add more than a couple of points to my power score, so I will need to do it myself. I have arranged to meet Lily in the botanical gardens for some intensive language research, in about an hour. In order to be prepared for this, I shall get back to the unit for a rest and on my way I must remember to collect the flask of hot chocolate for us to share.

The chocolate is particularly creamy today. I think that they have been reassessing the recipes lately because at least once a day I get the distinct feeling that the consistency of what I am eating or drinking is changed somehow. It helps me to relax and soon I find myself lying on my bed with drooping eyelids. Sleep is actually easy to find in the middle of the day.

“Mae, Mae, MAE. Are you in there?”

I am now awake, I have been dreaming about my latest experience, torn from my visit to that girl on the street. I tried to convince her to go home. I offered to go with her to plead for her forgiveness. The really unbelievable element to the dream is that I wasn't speaking English. I quite clearly understood and could converse in the mother tongue of the girl! I have never been able to do anything like that before in any of my dreams. Not that I would expect to speak to the tusked creature and my dream about the journey to Intentionality had only my friends included. So on reflection perhaps I have always been able to speak in that language, I have only just had reason to utilise the skill.

As I lie here in absolute amazement, I can actually remember those words I spoke and indeed the complete conversation! I feel like dancing and shouting. This is it my world has finally begun revolving like the other Seeders. I hope the pace gathers faster though, I have a week of maturity to catch up on.

“Mae, Mae, MAE. Are you there?”

Now I remember. I was woken by something and that something is a rather over excited Summer.

“I am in Summer, just dozing that's all, give me a second to let you in.”

Should I tell Summer my good news I wonder? I really need to tell someone who will be completely ecstatic and focussed on me right now, and I don't think Summer is that candidate. I can tell by the twinkle of her tones that she has great plans to bestow upon me. I am certain they do not involve listening to my mundane Evo news. So I shall keep my secret to myself, like a hoard of gems ready to show an admirer rather than a passer-by.

As the door begins to slide a very excited Summer dances into the room.

“Mae they have given us permission. I really didn't think my persuasion tactic of ‘it's not fair we've worked so hard' was getting anywhere. I was receiving a lot of opposition from the Grand Acer, Mrs Alder of all people managed to win him over. We just need to relocate to the recreation sector and promise that we shall not allow the preparations to diminish our Evo-gene development. We must promise no late nights and definitely no absence from lessons. The Graduation Ball can be set to Friday next week, that's the 6th of October. We shall then have one last day of rest together before The Harvest on the 8th. Our theme is to stay the same, Illusion. I need to ask you a huge favour. I don't have anyone else to ask. As I am not at all sure whether Dawn or Grace can even understand me at this moment and have no way of predicting if they will be conversant by next week. We will need to push ahead without including them in our preparation plans. I will need to rely on you a little more than usual. I would appreciate you and Lily taking over responsibility for the preparation of the room. I have sketched a representation of how the sector should appear when finished, just to give you an idea.

“I have already ordered the mirrors and a spinning mirror ball, which needs to be suspended from the ceiling. The light from the candles on the tables will not be enough to make it sparkle so I need you to bring along some of the huge underwater lanterns used by the Monos when they are repairing The Nest. I have also ordered lots of beautiful white fabric which has been hand embroidered with miniature mirrors. This is for draping around the walls and tables in an effort to hide the hard walls. The other girls will organise the music, I will continue to plan the menu and we were all preparing our own costumes in secret anyway.”

“As usual Summer, you have been able to morph a leisure pursuit into a military operation. Congratulations I shall be passing on the instructions to my better half. The room shall be ready for next week and you Summer shall go to the ball!”

Well that has just doubled my gleeful mood!

“Now do you want me to voice mail the notes to you on your communicator band? I am happy to do that,” asked Summer.

“No, I think my mission is quite straight forward. The first thing I shall do though is locate those big lanterns. There would be little use in the mirror ball without them.”

Summer thanked me, turned on her toes and disappeared along the hall as fast as a fish on the current and probably as quiet.

I communicated with Lily in pictures, much better than talking, she will be able to see exactly what a huge undertaking it will be. I then set off along the white corridors to meet her, all the time trying to keep my little surprise from bubbling out of its pot and into the communication area of my brain, where it will be jettisoned to my sister, without the fun build-up of intrigue that I had envisioned.

BOOK: Intentionality
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